Negative Space
by Chatting Airborne
Summary: Ion Stoner will do anything to escape her poor hometown- even get a job cleaning guts off the "creature research" division floor of Castle Oblivion. At first it's just for the pay, but when she overhears something she shouldn't, promotion calls and her life spirals out of control. But how many slummies like her escape the system alive?


**A/N:** This is part of a writer's challenge I am doing for myself called "Spring Cleaning." I'm going through all scrapped stories on my computer and brandishing every first chapter online to see which is worth continuing. First story to get 10 reviews gets a second chapter. So if you want to see what happens next, just leave a short review so I know you like it.

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 **Prologue**

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It was raining heavily when the black tarp trucks rolled into Radiant Garden. They trundled like billiard balls along the sludge that smeared between the city's clay peaks. Its splendorous blues and purples drowned mute in the darkness. All black and angry green in the reflection of the haze overhead. When the trucks reached the crystal fissure, the tank like cars rolled to a halt and parked side by side. The driver and passenger doors of the first to stop opened. Two suited gentlemen stepped out. From beneath the tarp at the back of the truck filed eight more. Slowly, all five trucks emptied of their passengers. Still more drove up from the fissure behind. Two suits at the head of the line watched as fifteen more trucks parked behind. Black upon black emptied from within, huddling side by side underneath the rain. Slowly, all pulled on the heavy coats and slipped over their hoods. The silver zippers trailing each twinkled in the truck headlights. The last few suits winced as the light fell upon them. But after the head of the line whistled, everyone drew close to the first.

With a snap from the headman, the first mate disappeared inside the second car and returned with a podium and foghorn. With a nod the head helped him set it on the Prussian blue sludge. Then, he clicked the foghorn and stepped up so that the entire clearing could see. There were two hundred of them standing side by side. They listened to the dark man on the podium. Slowly he lifted the foghorn and called attention. In reply, they saluted and yelled, "sir, yes sir!" Then, the leader extracted a laminated pamphlet from behind and began to read.

 _"_ _By the President of the United States of Gaia. A Proclamation. Whereas, on the twenty second day of March, in the year of our Gods zero, zero, zero, three, a proclamation was issued by the President of the United States containing, among other things, the following, to wit:_

 _That on the eighth day of May, in the year of our Gods zero, zero, zero, three, all citizens of Radiant Garden within any sector or designated part of any sector shall be accounted traitors to the United States, due to unlawful ties to Foreteller Organizations under the commandment of Master Eraqus of The Land of Departure, and due to the refusal of the requisition of their materials by the United States Government on the twenty second day of March, in the year of our Gods zero, zero, zero, three. Therefore, the Executive government of the United States, including the military and naval authority thereof, will recognize and maintain the freedom of its government agency, Organization Thirteen, to do acts to suppress such persons in any efforts they may make for their unlawful freedom._

 _That the executive will, on the eighth day of March aforesaid, by proclamation, designate the government agency and purveyor of justice, Organization Thirteen, to wipe out each and every man, woman, and child citizen of Radiant Garden and ensure the destruction of all property and land holdings therein, unless the captured citizen shall decide to pledge themselves to the captivity of the aforementioned Organization Thirteen._

 _Now, therefore, I, Xehanort, President of the United States of Gaia, by the virtue of the power in me vested as commander in chief of the army and navy of the United States, have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed."_

Following this, the man held out the plastic sheet and glittering wax seal for them to see for five seconds. The first mate snapped and the document was relinquished. The leader on the podium saluted and cried, "attention!" The black suits returned, "sir, yes, sir!" The second in command stepped upon the podium and divided the party into groups. Each of the thirteen would take fifteen men. Each of those fifteen, including their thirteen leaders, was ensured in pairs for the safety of the full party. The young officers under the thirteen gulped as they shuffled. Two, one with sweeping fair locks and another with a short blond bob, stood side by side as they quelled their trembles.

"You two," called a woman with stark blue eyes, "my group." In return the pair scrambled to her and waited as she instructed.

"We are in charge of the seventh sector," she entrusted. "Our main point of attack will be Central Square. From there we shall enter and assail the Castle Town to the east of Central Square. We will infiltrate the Front Doors and make our way to Hollow Bastion. Here, we will meet group number three and detonate the castle together. Is that clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" responded the party. The blue eyes smiled against blond locks.

"Try ma'am, next time," she cooed, and the party responded, "ma'am, yes, ma'am!" She laughed. The rest of the parties were ready, as well. With a whistle, the blond woman led hers through the east entrance of the fissure. The rest of the thirteen went every which way.

"Utter silence from here on out," she added, and the party murmured, "ma'am, yes, ma'am!" like a sigh in the wind. She cracked up every time. But with her hand over her mouth and her gun raised on her right side, she signaled them forward. They followed with silent steps through the fissure, towards the town gates in the distance. Halting her party, the woman tapped her earpiece and nodded.

"Group three has breached gate level four. Let's follow."

They tailed her at a fast jog until they met group Three stationed at a hole in the castle wall. The blond woman spoke with their leader. They nodded and whistled for their parties to come close.

"Group three gained access through the assistance of a citizen on Radiant Garden's outskirts. We will enter and divide at this point. We will reconvene at the front steps of Hollow Bastion at eight thirty in the morning. Then we will storm the castle. Clear?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" called the blonde's group. Leader of Three laughed as well. All slipped through the gate hole and parted ways. The blonde's group for Central Square, and Three for Castle Town.

"One person per household," she muttered. In return the group nodded gravely and hurried, stationing themselves in the doorways of the first fifteen houses. The blond took the sixteenth and raised her arm. The breaths of her soldiers held in their throats. She listened at the door's strong wood and curled her hand into a fist. The soldiers dug their right foot into the gravel and leaned in. They chanced a breath. The fist faltered. The breath faltered. Then the fist swept down, and the soldiers' legs swept up and around as they reared their feet in the frame of the doors.

One by one the weak metal latches buckled and splintered under the weight of the strikes. Yelps of fright stung the air as the inhabitants awakened to the ransack of their homes. The soldier with sweeping fair locks shoved through the fifth house door and grinned when she realized everyone was asleep. Like a ghost she moved. Flitted into the first bedroom, where husband and wife slept sound. Their breaths plumped the covers over their chests. The eyes rolled with dreams under the sockets. The husband was on the left. Wife on the right, near the closed window with the pink curtains. The soldier took a deep breath and raised her gun. Aimed at the husband's head. Closed her eyes. Shot once. The wife screamed. Shot twice. Then she rushed from the room. Across the hall were the children. Three of them. Three more bullets, three popped cartridges. Fired without thought. Then the soldier climbed from the bedroom window to the next assigned house.

"Shotgun, nineteen," reminded an older member in the road behind. She nodded as they parted. Her residence had a red door and a "welcome home" mat. She barreled inside the front door and went for the first bedroom. Another middle-aged couple, this time starting to wake up. This time Shotgun didn't close her eyes. She went for the second bedroom and kicked open the door with her foot, screeching to a stop in surprise when she saw what lied within.

Standing ahead of her, in a pale white nightdress and slippers with bunnies, was a girl of about fifteen, with long blond hair swept in a plait past her waist and a rapier the size of her arm held out in front of her. With a chuckle Shotgun aimed. But before she could fire, the girl with the rapier screamed, "Naminé, run!" and charged towards her. The soldier could see a flash of blue sandals and bleach white hairs flee from the couch behind. The sister with the sword blazed blue hot flame as she used her rapier to fling the gun from Shotgun's hand. It settled near an overturned teddy. Shotgun gasped as she curled her fists and engaged the cool steel rapier, dyed blue under the wallpaper and the moonlight's reflection. The blade dug through her right arm. She howled and stumbled back. The fire girl with bright blue eyes reared back and pinned her in the shoulder. Shotgun gasped and collapsed, stuck to the sapphire wall. The bunny slippers stood above her with the shadow of a weapon raised. Shotgun closed her eyes. A single round fired. The girl with the slippers crumpled to the ground. When Shotgun opened her eyes again, the girl was a lifeless doll. A man with bleached short hair and teal eyes stood over her shoulder.

"What the hell happened?" he barked. Shotgun struggled and pointed to the blade, brandishing her shoulder painted with blood. The loss was making her sick.

"One got- way," she muttered.

"What?" responded the man with teal eyes. Her hand was in his.

"One got away," Shotgun repeated, pointing to the window. "Looked about ten."

"Forget her," responded the man. "A ten year old that owns a teddy called "Snuggles and Hugs" is not going to be a problem." The words were in pink on the teddy's chest.

"I don't know about that," chuckled Shotgun, laughing when the man picked up the toy and bounced it along the dead sister's back. Running through a field of white snow.

"They're human, after all," he added. He patted Shotgun's back. "They can't follow you when they're dead."

"It's not her I'm worried about," responded Shotgun. Her fair locks fell limp with sweat. Her breath drew shallow. Her brown eyes closed.

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End file.
